


Phaenaretes

by ThatVermilionFlyCatcher



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Emergency childbirth, Fluff and Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 07:08:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14539326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatVermilionFlyCatcher/pseuds/ThatVermilionFlyCatcher
Summary: For some reason the curse that took everyone to Hyperion Heights turned detectives Rogers and Weaver into great midwives.





	Phaenaretes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NropaY_OneEye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NropaY_OneEye/gifts).



> Phaenarete was the name of Socrates' mother, who was a midwife. Socrates used to identify himself with her, as both helped give birth; she, human beings; he, the truth.
> 
> As English is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes you may find in this fic. Grammar and spelling corrections are more than welcome.

It had been this way since the curse had dragged all of them to Hyperion Heights. Regina had memories of a frustrated attempt of adoption, Henry thought he had no family, and him… he was turned into an excellent emergency accoucheur. He, the man fate had deprived of being present at the birth of both his sons.

“You are doing great,” he told reassuringly to the poor woman panting before him.

Weaver had attended several emergency births, but since he had been paired with Rogers, the rate had gone up alarmingly. It seemed like every woman in the last month of her pregnancy that passed near their peculiar neighbourhood was bound to cross paths with the odd detectives.

“I’m sorry, mate. It’s like I have a bloody curse on me or something. It’s been like this since the beginning of the Eloise Gardener case,” the poor ex-pirate had told him kind of embarrassed a few days after they had been paired.

Rumplestiltskin had kept his eyes fixed on the sink, as if washing his hands required his full attention. He had an idea as to why the curse had chosen to give Rogers a punishment that closely related to one of his past life most terrible traumas, and he thought there was nothing he could say to the poor man to make him feel better.

“Now, breathe, slowly… and… push!”

Making eye contact with the woman was difficult, but Rogers squeezed her hand and wiping her brow with his handkerchief, told her:

“We are here for you. Keep going!”

If Rumplestiltskin had not had more important things to focus on, he would have been amused every time he heard his partner speaking in that kind of soft, concerned way. He knew that deep down, the poor man was shaking. There was a reason why they had come to the arrangement by which Rogers assisted him and encouraged the woman in labor, and he took care of the baby.

He could now see the baby’s head halfway out.

“We are very close, this girl wants to see her mama!” He tried to make himself heard over the screams and then smiled subtly.

This thing of being impromptu accoucheurs had gone to the point in which Rumplestiltskin kept a set of towels and a box of surgical gloves in his car’s trunk and carried a pouch of hand sanitizer with him everywhere. At the precinct the odd couple had been dubbed the Phaenaretes, and both secretly liked the peculiar surname.

Today the emergency had caught them at the grocery store, as they were discussing if Tilly would like to try a new tangerine marmalade or if Rogers should just buy the same orange one as always. A cry for help made them leave the products right there and there and jump to the rescue.

A few aisles ahead, a pale clerk was trying to keep on her feet an equally pale lady standing on a little puddle of pinkish liquid.

“She’s coming,” the lady exclaimed haltingly

Then, everything, as always, went in a haze, Rogers calling an ambulance and all of them running to find the most appropriate place in that very awkward place for what was going to happen very, very soon. The manager had provided some towels, and they had accommodated her as well as they could, Rogers being the one in charge of the reassuring gestures and words.

This was the hardest part for Rumplestiltskin. It wasn’t only that he needed to stay focused: _we are gonna have a baby._ Belle’s face, her excitement and then her disillusionment and pain, her distress after giving birth, all those images came to haunt him, every single time. But then, once the child was about to be born… then he remembered the joy of holding Bae and baby Gideon for the first time, Belle’s joy of holding him again… _life itself is a miracle of love_.

And now, here they were again.

“Keep pushing… you are doing great, you are almost there…”

The baby’s head came out and started to rotate to the side. It was then that he noticed the umbilical cord around her neck. He gave Rogers a knowing look, and his partner squeezed the mother’s hand again and told her to breathe deep and concentrate. Rumplestiltskin tried to slowly put his finger between the baby’s neck and the cord, and to his relief, it loosened. He then nodded and Rogers told the woman to push again, just a little more.

First one shoulder, then the other and the little girl was out. Rumplestiltskin let out a breath.

“Here she is.”

The mother started to laugh and cry as he removed the umbilical cord from around the baby’s neck and wrapped her in a towel. He then wiped her mouth and nose.

“Come on, Elinor,” that was the name her mother had told them “give us a good cry,” he pleaded in a whisper as he rocked her softly.

A few seconds passed until he finally pricked her foot and the little girl wailed to the top of her lungs. The room faded for a second, as it always did, as he smiled to her and welcomed her to the world. He could never understand his father’s words about children being skirmish little things… yes, they were that, but they were so much more… _A mystery to be uncovered_ , Belle’s voice ringed in his ears. Maybe this punishment wasn’t that much of a punishment: maybe, in an unexpected way, it was a blessing, the same way Regina’s curse had allowed some people to start again and forget about the terrible things in their pasts. Maybe allowing him and Rogers to help at so many births was life’s own way to try and make amends.

He snapped himself out of his daydream and passed the baby carefully onto Rogers arms, so he could clean and cover her up a bit as they waited for the paramedics to arrive —they usually arrived, oh so casually, right after the delivery was over, so much that he was starting to think that it was part of the curse too.

Rogers handled the baby with ease, and laid her on her mother’s bosom. She was glowing with joy, the wide smile of her lips dancing in her warm brown eyes.

“You… may breastfeed her now,” Rogers said shyly. “It would help with delivering the placenta.” And with a last squeeze of her shoulder he turned around to give her some privacy, his eyes misty.

As predicted, the paramedics arrived promptly and took mother and daughter to the hospital, and the detectives, after washing their hands, resumed their chore. Silence hung between them as they paid for the groceries and got into the car. Finally, Rogers asked:

“Have you… Have you ever considered having children?”

“Why is detective Rogers now suddenly interested in children?”

Rogers hesitated.

“When I took that girl in my arms I… I thought of Tilly. I… asked myself what did she look like as a baby. And… how could someone abandon her. It was a weird thing. I don’t know… It felt like a hole in my chest or something.

Rumplestiltskin smiled softly, a knowing, bittersweet smile.

“Belle always wanted a daughter. And that, I wasn’t capable of giving her.” He blinked fast.

“You can’t blame yourself for that.”

Rumplestiltskin didn’t answer. It struck Rogers like a ton of bricks. Tilly, Anastasia, that baby… those situations most certainly made him think of what could have been and wasn’t.

“So… you have a son?”

Rogers regretted the question as soon as he formulated it, but there was no way of taking it back. Rumplestiltskin swallowed slowly.

“Two sons. The eldest was Neal, and then Gideon.”

“You… you never mentioned them before.”

“Well, Gideon… he is a scholar, like his mother. He is abroad.”

“You must be missing him.”

“Yes, terribly so.”

Rogers noticed the eyes of his partner were shining.

“Neal… I lost him.”

The air had tensed up a bit.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Rogers answered, for lack of better words.

“He died a hero, saving the people he loved.”

Another awkward silence descended upon them, and the ex pirate decided to ask the question that was burning him. It couldn’t get more awkward than this.

“How… How is it like?”

Rumple’s features softened. The poor man knew the answer as much as he did and yet, he didn’t know he knew.

“There’s no way to explain it, really. The moment someone puts your child in your arms for the first time and you realize you’ll do anything for them, literally anything… There’s nothing quite like that.”

They had reached now the street of Rogers’ house.

“Would you join us for dinner? Tilly wanted to try gumbo and Sabine offered to teach us.”

“I suppose I can spend an evening learning to prepare a new dish.”

“You didn’t strike me as the cooking type,” Rogers said with a lopsided smile.

“Don’t push me, detective,” Rumplestiltskin replied turning off the engine. “Or I’ll have you make my dinner for a week.”

Rogers chuckled and both men made their way to the apartment, praying that Tilly wouldn’t burn it down in her enthusiasm, at least just this once.


End file.
